


Handprint

by mallotovcocktail



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 16:46:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mallotovcocktail/pseuds/mallotovcocktail





	Handprint

Castiel never told Dean about Hell. He never described the battles that led to finding him. He never said that angels died on the way. He never told Dean that when Cas had reached the battered, broken, splintered shell of Dean Winchester Cas wasn’t supposed to be alone. 

Dean had been standing next to a rack, on which an unconscious, bleeding woman was laying. Alistair could be seen in the distance, his ‘soul’ distorting the air around him. There was a smile playing on the lips of Dean’s face. Castiel approached him slowly. Green eyes slid to look at Castiel. 

"Dean Winchester?" Castiel didn’t need to be told who this man was; his soul was dim and faded but there was no mistaking the raw righteousness that seeped through those veins. Dean’s face had a smile and his hands had a soul at his mercy but his eyes screamed in pain.

Alistair would later tell Dean that he had broken the first seal by giving in.

Dean would later admit that he enjoyed torturing others.

Castiel would never tell Dean that he was torturing himself. Every slice of his knife into another person’s skin hurt worse for Dean than if the knife had sliced him open.

Dean would think it ironic that the man who had sacrificed himself would not do so in hell. Enjoying the pain he breed was more agonizing than anything Dean Winchester could feel; on Earth or in Hell.

Dean had smiled, oily red blood and dirt coating his skin, and stared at Castiel.

"I am here to help you," Castiel had said.

Dean would ask why the next time Castiel explained the rescue, but at the time, he simply said no.

"No," Dean had growled. "Save her." He pointed his knife at the woman, who was slowly waking up and groaning in pain.

That had been the first time Dean had surprised Castiel.

"My orders are to save you," Castiel would never tell Dean that he had fought against resurrecting Dean. Castiel would never tell Dean what changed his mind.

Dean had scoffed. Dean had dug the knife into the now whimpering woman’s arm and turned away from Castiel. Dean had ignored Castiel and carved. 

Castiel had stood watching the man he was supposed to save lacerate through the woman’s screams. Castiel had wondered why Zachariah could want this man, why this man deserved redemption. 

Dean had pulled the woman’s hair and held her head up, pushing his cheek against hers to smile at Castiel.

"Ask him to save you," Dean had told her as she coughed through the blood in her throat. Castiel had watched as Dean Winchester wiped the blade across her face, wiping her blood onto her cheeks. 

"I did this," Dean had shouted at Castiel, throwing the woman’s head down against the hard table. Castiel grimaced at the cracking sound that came from her head. "You should not save me. I deserve this."

Dean had been shaking, furious and guilty and stubborn.

"No," Castiel had said, surprising himself. "You do not."

Tears were peaking out of the torturer’s eyes, his face still hard and angry.

Castiel wasn’t sure what to do. In all his millenia of watching earth and serving heaven, he had never been faced with this dilemma. How could he convince this human to follow the orders of heaven, especially ones Castiel himself didn’t understand? Didn’t agree with? Castiel saw this man, standing next to his masterpiece of flesh, an amalgamation of His creation, and he felt torn. This man didn’t deserve to hate himself so strongly, this man didn’t deserve to accept this punishment for the rest of eternity.

Dean Winchester, the Righteous Man, looked at the floor, defeated. Castiel never wanted to see that look on this man’s soul again. He approached the desperate man and touched his shoulder. Dean crumbled against the angel’s grace, forehead touching incomprehensible and multidimensional light. Castiel felt Dean’s thoughts about how ridiculous the situation was; Castiel’s first taste of Dean’s brand of deflection.

Castiel would never tell Dean that the hand print etched in his skin was not a necessity. Cas would never tell Dean that he poured his own grace into Dean by choice. Cas would ever tell Dean Winchester that he fell in love with Dean’s righteous self sacrifice before Dean had known Castiel’s name.


End file.
